Deadline (Newsflesh #2)

A martyr's just a casualty with really good PR.

And to those who would choose the safety of inaction over the danger of taking a stand, I have this to say:
You bloody cowards. May you have the world that you deserve.

At least you know that you're crazy. That means you have the potential to recover.

Be good. Be kind to each other. And if there's somebody you love, tell them. The world always needs more love.

Don't start. My mood stays better if you don't start.

...even saying good-bye isn’t enough. There’s always one more thing you should have had the time to say, or do, or ask. There’s always going to be that one missing piece.

Follow the rules whenever possible. That makes it a lot more surprising when you break them.

How am I coping? I miss George and the goddamn world is still full of zombies, that's how. Everything else...
Everything else is just details. And those don't really matter to me anymore.

Hysteria takes too much energy to be maintained forever.

I feel the closest to crazy when I'm disagreeing with the voice in my head

...If there’s a God, there are plenty of people who know where he is.” I shrugged, still watching the sky. ... “I just want to know that he’s there, so that I can die knowing there’s going to be someone I can punch in the mouth on the other end.

I guess in the end, it doesn’t matter what we wanted. What matters is what we chose to do with the things we had.

I just find it interesting that kids apparently used to cry when Bambi's mother died. George and I both held our breaths, and then cheered when she didn't reanimate and try to eat her son.

I like to think of myself as a reasonable man. But I have buried too many friends in the too-recent past, and I have seen too many lies go unquestioned, and too many questions go unasked. There is a time when even reasonable men must begin to take unreasonable actions. To do anything else is to be less than human.

I recommend Avon Skin-So-Soft. It’s a bath product. It smells like someone fed a Disney Princess through a juicer, but it works better than anything else on the market.

I suggest it’s time we head off to see the Wizard. The wonderful Wizard of Jesus We Are All So Fucked.

I think I just had a minor psychotic episode or maybe a breakdown or something, but it's cool; I'm feeling basically okay now," I replied, closing the van doors. "You?

I've got no problem with octopuses. It's bugs and spiders that I don't like. Octopuses are cute, in their own 'nature did a lot of drugs' sort of way.

Life's more fun when you take the chance that it might end.

Sometimes you need lies to stay alive.

That’s the trouble with being scared all the time. Eventually, people just go numb.

The Masons may not have taught me much about how to treat a guest, but they taught me not to shoot at them unless it was absolutely necessary.

Then you know why I'm not in the mood for sunshine and puppies." I paused. "That expression makes no sense. Why the hell would I ever be in the mood for puppies?"
"I could go with sunshine, though. Sunshine is useful. It should really be 'sunshine and shotguns.' Something you'd actually be happy about."

The one thing I have absolute faith in is mankind's capacity to make things worse. No matter how bad it gets, we're all happy to screw each other over. It's enough to make me wonder if we should have let the zombies win.

The only thing we have in this world that is utterly and intrinsically ours is our integrity.

This is Shaun Mason activating security protocol Campbell. The bridge is out, the trees are coming, and I’m pretty sure my hand is evil. Now gimme some sugar, baby.

This is what I do know: A lie, however well-intended, can't prepare you for reality or change the world... To tell the truth is to provide armament against a world too full of cruelties to be defeated with simple falsehoods... It seems to me we owe the world--more, we owe ourselves--the exchange of comfort for the chance that maybe the truth can do what people always say it can. The truth may, given the opportunity, set us free.

When you're going to play with dead things, do it during the daylight.

Why is it you assholes always feel the need to tell the media your evil plans before you kill us?” asked Becks. “Is it a union requirement or something?

You know what? Fuck it. Just fuck it. The Rising didn't manage to wipe out the human race, it just made us turn into even bigger assholes than we were before. Hear that, mad science? You failed. You were supposed to kill us all, and instead you turned us into monsters.